Leann Sweeney - The Cat, The Professor and the Poison

I glanced ahead in the direction of that wicked fence. Surely I could make my retreat without further injury and get back to the sanctuary. I had to tell Shawn about this. Maybe he could help me figure out what was going on with those cats.

The trek back to Ruth Schultz’s farm was taking longer than the trip out, without a calico cat to guide me. It wasn’t like I had any real path to follow. Turned out the lack of a path was the way I was supposed to walk after all. I’d stopped sneezing long enough to hear the weak sounds of a cat meowing.

I turned, thinking Miss Calico had followed me, but no, these mews were persistent, soft and up ahead to my right. I stepped slowly in the direction of the sound and soon found the source: a thin gray cat lying in trampled grass. Another escapee from the professor’s farm? Probably.

The gray made no attempt to move as I knelt and extended a hand. The mews stopped, and sunken green eyes looked up at me. Unlike the other cats I’d been close to, this one definitely needed help. I reached a hand out and gently ran my fingers along the side of the gray’s face. A minute later, he was in my arms and we were on our way without so much as a protest from the cat. He was weak, possibly dehydrated and far too thin for his frame.

I found Ruth in the field tending her tomato plants.

Since she was kneeling, she saw my nicked and scratched shins first. She looked up, her eyes wide. “What happened to you?” She rose. “And what happened to this one?”

“I found out where the cats are coming from, so I’m heading back to get this one to Shawn. This gray needs help.”

“But you need those cuts cleaned up first,” she said. “And your eyes-why are they so puffy?”

“Allergies. Really, I’m fine,” I said, shrugging off her offer and heading for my van. “Do you know your neighbor, the professor?”

She walked alongside me. “Professor? Who are you talking about?”

“There’s property about a twenty-minute walk from here. Do you know the man who owns it?”

Her eyebrows knitted in confusion. “Someone bought that place?” She shook her head. “I get so involved in planting this time of year, I literally have my head in the sand. That old farm has been vacant for years. Most of them in this area are abandoned. Small farms are nearly extinct around here.”

“It’s not vacant anymore. Can you open the front passenger door?”

Ruth did so, and then I had her grab an old cat quilt from the back. She spread it on the passenger seat, and I laid the gray down. He meowed but made no effort to move.

I scratched an itch on my left arm. Geez. The bug bites from slithering on the ground were almost as itchy as my nose.

“All my new friends belong to this professor, then?” She nodded toward her barn, rubbing dirty hands on the front of her jeans.

“Probably-but it doesn’t seem like they’re his pets. When I met him, that’s what he called them-pets. What a liar.”

“You talked to him?” Her gaze traveled back and forth between the cat and my cuts and scratches.

“Not at his place. I’ll explain later. This cat needs help now. Since you have cat food now, will you be okay with a few extra mouths to feed?”

She smiled. “Certainly. I do want to help.”

We said our good-byes, and she reminded me once more to get first aid as soon as possible. Sweet lady, I thought as my van rumbled down the back roads of Mercy toward the sanctuary.

When I walked back into Shawn’s office fifteen minutes later, his gaze immediately went to the limp cat in my arms.

“Looks like you’ve been in combat, Jillian,” he said. “But I get the feeling it wasn’t with this cat. Give him here.”

I eased the gray into Shawn’s arms and then followed as he took him through the office and into the part of the sanctuary where he had a stainless-steel examination table. The gray didn’t like this much, tried to get up, but didn’t have the strength to resist Shawn’s firm hold. Shawn lifted the cat’s right cheek to expose the gums and pressed a finger above the upper gum. He then ran his big hands over the gray’s body, all the while murmuring that everything would be fine.

“Dehydrated,” Shawn finally said. “I’ll give him some IV fluids under his skin.” Shawn looked me up and down. “Did any of the cats scratch you?”

I held out my hands, glanced down at my legs. “These? No, these are from sneaking around in the country on my belly. Mother Nature bites sometimes. We have a situation that needs immediate attention-but I don’t know where to start.”

I gave him a hurried summary of what I’d seen, where I’d found the gray cat and how I knew about this professor.

Shawn’s reaction was instantaneous anger. “I’ve got to see this for myself. Can you stay with this guy after I give him fluids?”

“Hang on. There’s too many cats-at least fifty by my quick count. You can’t handle fifty cats alone.”

He took a deep breath, the tips of his ears scarlet. “But I have to do something.”

“I feel the same way,” I said gently, hoping my tone would transfer an air of calmness to him, even though I felt less than calm myself. “But we need help.”

“If this professor has a cattery license and those cats aren’t being properly fed, he’s in big trouble.” Shawn walked over to a cabinet and retrieved a clear plastic bag of what I assumed were the fluids the gray needed. “But that means we have to go through the animal control officer. Last thing I want to do is call that dumbass Chester. I’ll go over to that farm and see what’s what first.”

I’d left the door to the office open, and Snug took the opportunity to pipe in with “ Chester ’s a dumbass. Chester ’s a dumbass.” I guessed the parrot had heard that refrain plenty of times.

“Not a good idea to go there alone, Shawn,” I said. He’d been suspected of murdering a catnapper last year thanks to the combination of his quick temper and his passion for the well-being of animals. I wasn’t sure he could be trusted to keep his anger in check once he saw what I’d witnessed.

He threw up his free hand. “You’re the one who came back with this poor animal asking for help, and now you don’t want me to do anything?”

“I didn’t say that. Listen, Candace did the stakeout at the West place, where we caught that professor red-handed. She’s already warned this man about his questionable behavior. If he’s doing something illegal, she can step in. Meanwhile, you start calling volunteers to be ready to take in cats. I’ll gladly take the calico and her litter.”

“I don’t have a long enough list of volunteers around here to handle fifty cats. So you’re right. We do need a plan.” He paused, scratched his head. “I have friends in other parts of the state who’ll help. The cats might have to stay at this idiot’s so-called farm until volunteers can get here.”

“You sure you can’t call on Chester? I mean, how will we get around him?” I asked.

“ Chester ’s a dumbass,” Snug called.

I had to smile.

Shawn sighed. “I probably can’t keep him out of this, but I sure as hell wish I could. Okay, phone Candace. Meanwhile, I’ll make some calls, check the state licensing board online about new catteries-’cause I sure haven’t heard a peep about any new ones around here. If there’s no license, well, seems to me this professor’s in big trouble every which way you look. This poor guy is evidence of mistreatment if he came from that farm-and I’m sure he did.”

While Shawn tended to the gray cat, I went outside to call Candace. A late-afternoon breeze helped me feel a little less grungy. Seeing all those cats locked up had me thinking of my own three. All of them had stayed in shelters after Katrina, and that’s no life for a cat, even when the animals are surrounded by loving volunteers. Before I called Candace, I checked my cat cam.